Mistletoe Day
by Hisa-Ai
Summary: It was simple, really, all Merlin needed to do was catch Arthur under the mistletoe. That was all. It wasn't some extraordinary task, wouldn't require superhuman abilities or elaborate planning, it was the simplest thing in the world. All he needed to do was corner Arthur, and steal a kiss. He could definitely do that.


**Special thanks to Julie for beta-ing this.**

* * *

 _Mistletoe Day_

* * *

*.*.*.*.*

It was _simple_ , really, all Merlin needed to do was catch Arthur under the mistletoe. That was all. It wasn't some extraordinary task, wouldn't require superhuman abilities or elaborate planning, it was the simplest thing in the world. All he needed to do was corner Arthur, and steal a kiss. He could _definitely_ do that.

Even though it was sure to be a fairly simple feat to accomplish, Merlin thought it would still be for the best if he just… planned for this anyway. Just a little bit. It wasn't every day that one kissed their best friend, after all, so to calm his nerves and the jittery butterflies he was left with whenever he thought about doing it, Merlin decided it would be for the best if he just planned a little bit.

 _Just a little bit._

And maybe leave mistletoe scattered about wherever he could in his flat, where the pair of them spent a decent amount of time. Like in the front doorway, and the doorway leading to the kitchen, and hanging above his couch, and in the bathroom—not that Merlin exactly spent a ton of time with Arthur in his bathroom, but, well, there was no such thing as being _too_ prepared for a thing like this—and his pantry, in his dining room—really, wherever he _could_ hang some mistletoe, he _did_. Just to be on the safe side, just to be sure.

If he timed it right—if Arthur _cooperated_ —he should have been able to catch him in a kiss the very second he walked in. Arthur would know he was up to something, would know that Merlin had planned for that to happen, but God help him, Merlin simply couldn't be bothered to _care_ about that tiny little detail.

After, when Arthur was safely inside and shrugged out of his coat, and wanted to know what Merlin had to eat and or drink—because he _always_ wanted to raid Merlin's kitchen whenever he was over—he would walk there behind Merlin and Merlin would stop right there in the doorway, just under the mistletoe, would as good as demand a kiss with a sly smile on his face. And then he would turn on his heel as though nothing had happened at all after, trail off to his fridge to grab Arthur a drink and something to nosh on.

And Arthur would join him. And find himself caught in _another_ kiss that would leave him baffled and _hopefully_ more than a little bit breathless.

Hopefully, Arthur wouldn't suspect _too_ much at that point, would be too… _something_ or another to bother looking up to check for _more_ mistletoe, because **_that_** simply would not do. Merlin couldn't have Arthur suspecting or anticipating kisses at that point. Not when there was so much more mistletoe hanging about for Merlin to catch the blond under.

(And that had been an adventure, really, hanging so much mistletoe, but it was sure to be worth it—sure to be so much more than just worth it, actually.)

However, just then, instead of hearing an annoying knocking at his door that could only be brought on by a certain Arthur Pendragon, Merlin simply heard it opening. He froze where he was, standing in the middle of his sitting room. He wasn't expecting anyone other than Arthur, and he'd made sure to lock his door _specifically_ so he could let him in and welcome him with a kiss…

Hadn't he?

But then—ah, how the _hell_ had Arthur gotten in if the door had been locked? Because that was _definitely_ Arthur, from his stupid blond hair to that damned leather jacket of his he was already shrugging out of, lips unkissed, mistletoe unnoticed. What the hell did that blond prat think he was _doing_?

"Hope you don't mind I let myself in with that spare you gave me—I actually remembered it for a change, so I figured I'd save you the energy of getting up and letting me in," he said, explaining himself so casually as he took off his jacket and threw it down on Merlin's couch instead of hanging it up on the conveniently placed coatrack. As always.

Merlin opened and closed his mouth for a moment, unsure what to say about that— _remembered his key_ , right, of course he had. The key that Merlin had given him because Arthur was over there all the damn time _anyway,_ and Merlin had grown tired of having to stop whatever he was doing to let him in so he would stop his annoying knocking. It had been for naught, however, as Arthur always seemed to forget the damned key at his _anyway_ , and Merlin had to give up his comfort or cease in his task to let him in; but today—no, _today,_ on mistletoe day, he'd _remembered_ the damned thing.

 _Of course he had._

Rather than respond, Merlin pursed his lips. That was… fine. That was _fine_. There would be other chances to steal a mistletoe kiss from Arthur. _Plenty_ of other chances, at that. It would be _fine_.

Merlin's eyes slid over to where Arthur had thrown himself down on the couch and frowned. That was... new. He didn't usually make himself so comfortable until after he had something to eat or drink in his hands. There went Merlin's opportunity to catch him at the fridge or the sink or in the doorway or in the dining room or in the other doorway or the middle of the living room—that took away _quite a few_ of Merlin's mistletoe kisses, didn't it? Arthur couldn't have been more inconsiderate just then if he'd wanted to be.

Honestly, how dare he deprive Merlin of his very kissable looking lips? The prat.

"Everything alright?" Arthur asked, feet kicked up on Merlin's coffee table, eyes flickering between the tv and Merlin himself.

"Uhm," Merlin paused to lick his lips, nodded _very_ unconvincingly, if he did say so himself. "Yeah, just… my mother bought me that table, you know, and I don't think she would appreciate you dirtying it up with your disgusting socks, so _feet off,_ Pendragon," he said, making sure to screw his face up with just the right amount of disgust and authority.

Arthur, however, merely snorted, sank down lower on the couch.

"I was with you when you got this at that garage sale at the place up the street from Gwaine's; unless your mother was in disguise that day, she didn't buy it for you. What's _really_ going on?"

Merlin simply shook his head, and let out an exasperated sigh. Of course Arthur would remember that too— _of course_ he would. The prat's memory was proving to be damn near impeccable today, of all days.

"Nothing, I'm just tired," he lied.

His lie was met with a skeptical look from Arthur, the words, _I don't believe you but I'll play along anyway,_ written on his face between the infuriatingly smug, attractive look in his eyes and on lips that Merlin was being denied without Arthur even knowing it.

The prat.

"Late night? Hot date?" Arthur teased, lips a teasing smirk that was absolutely _begging_ to be kissed away.

"Bite me," Merlin replied, throwing himself down on the couch next to Arthur.

If nothing else, Merlin could at least—possibly—get the _one_ kiss out of him. It wasn't as good as all the kisses he'd been planning on receiving that day, but it was better than getting no kisses at all.

"Only if you say _please_ ," Arthur replied with a wide grin that made Merlin lean towards him _ever so slightly,_ licking his lips slightly in hopes of putting his plan into action and stealing the kiss—God, all he wanted was the _one_ kiss now.

Arthur, however, clearly didn't, because he was standing up a second later, walking towards the kitchen like he _should_ have done five God damn minutes ago. Merlin scowled after the blond, and reached for his remote to flip the channel to something he didn't particularly care for but that Arthur didn't either, and as long as Arthur didn't like it, that was all that mattered. Because Arthur was a prat who owed Merlin _at least_ several kisses, and the sooner he realised it the better.

"Need anything to drink while I'm in here? Or eat? We should replenish your energy after the night you _clearly_ had. Are you going to tell me her name? Or his? Or... both? I don't know what you've been up to lately, you know, you've been awfully shady and evasive, for all I know you've been frequenting swingers bars or… putting ads out on the internet—where _have_ you been lately? Avoiding me? Feels like it, you know," Arthur prattled on from the kitchen, his words both making Merlin snort in amusement and feel a pang of guilt; he _had_ been distancing himself from Arthur as of late, but God, that had only been because he didn't want to fall even _more_ in love with the damned prat than he already was.

It had been for the best, but, well, then he'd decided that it _wasn't_ for the best after all, because avoiding Arthur was like blocking out the sun, and he would rather try to kiss the prat ten thousand times and risk rejection than cut off the thing that sustained his very life, he'd decided.

And anyway, it was _Christmastime_ , Merlin couldn't avoid Arthur around _Christmastime_. And Arthur couldn't flat out reject him either, he was bound by holiday traditions to kiss Merlin back the first time at least.

After that, however… Well, he'd deal with that when it came time for the second kiss. _If_ it ever came time for the second kiss.

"There was no girl, no guy, no swingers bars or internet ads; I was only avoiding you for a week. Things've been back to normal for _ages_ now you whiny prat. And please don't try to cook anything, just grab the cookies and the eggnog—yes, it's store bought, I'm not making eggnog from scratch a _week_ before Christmas, you have to wait until Christmas Eve for the good stuff, you know this, don't even try complaining about it," Merlin called back, grinning as he did, and hearing Arthur's muttered swearing as confirmation that he was right about everything that Arthur had planned on saying and complaining about.

He sat back and sank down on his couch, feeling normal as he did so. God— _normal_ — while sitting on a secret plan to attack his best friend's lips. He was _really_ something else, he thought as Arthur came back through the doorway with two mugs and a plate balanced on top of them, grinning slightly as he did.

"You _always_ have to spoil my fun?" he asked, playfully chiding as he sat the goods down on the table in front of Merlin and took his seat once again. "Are you going to tell me _why_ you were avoiding me, then?" he asked as he grabbed a cookie and sat back, angled so he could see nothing but Merlin, the tv be damned, apparently.

Merlin shrugged, reached for the storebought eggnog that Arthur so loathed, and took a sip to give himself a moment to think of a decent enough excuse, Arthur watching him all the while with intent curiosity on his face as he chewed, jawline captivating suddenly in a way that it _really_ didn't need to be when he was in the middle of trying to think of lies to tell to take away from how much he wanted Arthur that very second..

" _Uhm_ ," he began finally, setting his cup down. "No, probably… not. I… it's complicated, Arthur, you shouldn't worry about it, what matters is that I'm not avoiding you _now_. So… how are the cookies?" he asked, changing the subject rather tactfully, if he did say so himself.

Arthur, however, didn't seem to agree with him, if the look on his face was anything to go by. He wanted to know why Merlin had been avoiding him, but Merlin couldn't give him the answer he was looking for, not without giving everything away. So he didn't have any other choice than to deal with that look for now.

"They would be better if they came with a side of honesty," he replied in a clipped tone, reaching for his eggnog to have a drink himself.

Merlin flinched. He deserved that, he knew. But God, the only reason they were having this issue was because Arthur was a prat, if he could just… stop being one for five minutes, everything would be just _fine_. At this rate, Merlin was never going to get any of his kisses.

"Yeah, they… probably would be," he agreed awkwardly, "But… would you settle for control of the remote?" he asked hopefully, holding it out towards Arthur.

Arthur eyed it for a moment, a sour look on his face, eyes flicking over to Merlin's and softening at whatever they might have seen there—which Merlin hoped wasn't too much at all—before he let out a sigh and made a grab for it.

"You're going to have to tell me sooner or later, Merlin," he said.

"I know," Merlin replied. "I know, just… let's just enjoy the afternoon, yeah? You can have the truth later, right now let's just enjoy this shitty eggnog."

If the look on Arthur's face just then was anything to go by—as it should have been; Arthur had a _very_ expressive face, if he had nothing else—Merlin knew he was losing serious brownie points with Arthur right now, knew that his friend was at least slightly irritated with him right now, if not more than a little.

Instead of pushing it in typical Pendragon fashion, however, Arthur sank down on the couch with his cookie shoved in his mouth and clenched between his teeth, Merlin's remote in one hand, and his shitty eggnog in the other. He took to flipping through the channels for a moment before he settled on some shitty Christmas movie that Merlin, for one, didn't particularly enjoy—who bought talking reindeer with noses that glow red _anyway_?—and sat the remote down on the couch near him, cookie removed from his mouth with a bite taken out of it, attention very pointedly focused on the television screen and _not_ on Merlin.

At least he wasn't _leaving_. As long as he didn't leave, Merlin still had the chance and opportunity to kiss him, and make things right once again.

*.*.*.*.*

What could have been _days_ later, for as long as it _felt_ like it lasted, the God awful talking reindeer movie—and apparently they _flew_ too, as if anyone was _actually_ going to believe that—came to an end and Arthur flipped through the channels, and flipped through the channels, and _flipped_ through the channels as he nibbled on his cookies and sipped on his shitty eggnog in silence with Merlin, who snuck sideways glances at Arthur all the while, wondering and worrying over the silence and when it was going to break and who would be the one to break it.

After some time, Arthur picked some other Christmas program to put on—honestly, talking reindeer, snowmen that came to life, Merlin half wondered if people only enjoyed Christmas movies ironically, as there was no way anyone actually _believed_ in any of this shite—and finished his eggnog, looked sideways at Merlin himself and sighed, his thoughts clear as day on his face. But he _said_ nothing, and Merlin looked down to his hands, flexed his fingers, and kept his gaze down until he was sure Arthur had looked back away.

He picked up his cup, downed the rest of his shitty, shitty eggnog, and tried to focus on what Arthur had put on instead of anything else in the world.

*.*.*.*.*

After some more hours, more movies, more cookies, and more eggnog, Arthur decided it was time for him to leave; it was sooner than Merlin was used to him leaving when he came over to hang out, but given the circumstances, Merlin supposed he understood. God, this evening wasn't supposed to go this way, they were supposed to be kissing and cuddling right about now, not being upset with each other, and themselves, in Merlin's case.

"I'll walk you out," Merlin said without too much enthusiasm at all.

Arthur didn't reply, he merely let out a sigh and went about collecting his things, replacing boots and his coat too quickly for Merlin's liking, though Merlin was in a rush of his own, he supposed; he had an entire night of pouting he needed to get done, and a whole lot of mistletoe he needed to take down, since his plan had been such a bust. The sooner Arthur left, the sooner Merlin could get on with the rest of his awful, lonely night.

Within a moment, Arthur and Merlin were at Merlin's door, and Merlin was preparing himself for Arthur to be the one to avoid him for a week or so now, given the way this whole night had gone.

 _God_ , it had gone _so awful_ even though not much had happened at all.

Merlin opened his door and drummed his fingers against it as Arthur walked past him, turned in the doorway and looked at Merlin for a moment, opened his mouth, and seemed to be considering Merlin for a long pause that piqued Merlin's curiosity more than just a little bit.

" _Why…_ " Arthur licked his lips, seemed to reconsider what he wanted to say before he started again. "Who hangs _that_ much mistletoe?" he asked, glancing up and nodding into Merlin's apartment.

 _Ah shit._

Merlin hadn't… _Obviously_ Arthur wasn't supposed to notice it until, well, until Merlin kissed him— _why_ had Arthur noticed it? How long had it taken him to notice it? How long had he just been… sitting there wondering over it? Why hadn't he said anything about it before then?

"Unless they're trying to kiss someone, I mean," Arthur continued, a spark in his eye that Merlin hadn't seen there for most of the night. " _Are_ you? Trying to kiss someone? Anyone I know?" he asked, a teasing, albeit cautious, tone about him.

"You might be familiar," Merlin replied in a sigh, reaching out to tug Arthur by the coat so he was standing where he was meant to be standing all those hours ago: directly under the mistletoe.

It had been a long time coming, and part of Merlin wanted to draw the moment out slowly, kiss Arthur carefully and sensually, make it worth remembering later on. But the part of Merlin that was in charge clung to Arthur with tight fingers and a needy press of lips, losing himself too readily and heatedly in the kiss in a way he hadn't thought was possible only five minutes ago. Arthur had been upset with him, after all, why was he letting Merlin kiss him like this now? Why was he kissing Merlin back in much the same manner?

"That's, uhm," Merlin cleared his throat, almost sheepish when he pulled back, watched Arthur open his eyes slowly with a blissful look on his face that made Merlin's stomach flip. "That's… why I was avoiding you that week, I was trying to figure out how to either… _not_ be in love with you anymore or tell you that I am, I—"

Arthur surged forward and cut Merlin off at both the best and worst time, Merlin thought, because the message was _clearly_ received but God, Merlin still needed to _say it_ , still needed to get the words out exactly as they ought to have been said at some point.

When Arthur pulled back, Merlin eyed him suspiciously, asked without thinking, "How long ago did you notice the—?"

"—the trap you set to kiss me?" Arthur interrupted. "Soon as I walked in—I'm not blind, Merlin, which is what you'd have to be to miss the trail of mistletoe you'd left to kiss me throughout your flat. Did it ever occur to you to just…" he shrugged, flashed Merlin one of those stupid, too attractive smiles of his. "...take a chance and kiss me without it?"

"Well yeah, but… mistletoe is just a bit more festive, isn't it?" he asked with a grin.

With a roll of his eyes, Arthur slowly backed Merlin up against the wall just inside his apartment and shut the door behind himself, leaned in to kiss the other again as he went shrugging out of his coat once again.

"Now tell me," he murmured when he pulled back, coat dropping to the floor. "that that trail ends in your bedroom."

Merlin's breath caught at the request and _God_ , Merlin _wished_ he'd thought that far ahead, wished he had more mistletoe to make the trail go all the way to his room suddenly.

"It doesn't," Merlin replied apologetically. "But you could always just take a chance and lead me to the bedroom without it, yeah?" he said teasingly, raising a suggestive eyebrow at the blond, and was met with a chuckle that was music to his ears, so full of the promise of taking Merlin up on that suggestion.

"I _suppose_ it's worth a shot," Arthur murmured thoughtfully, pressing a kiss to the crook of Merlin's neck, images of them doing all that cuddling and kissing and _more_ filling his head once again, though with a bit more promise this time than last.

Maybe they might even be able to catch a few more Christmas movies later on during their cuddling; Merlin was rather fond of that flying reindeer with that silly glowing nose; perhaps if he was exceptionally lucky, they might be able to catch it again that night.

*.*.*.*.*


End file.
